


Name Me Your Sun and Stars

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: Jaime and Brienne and What We All Deserved [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime Bunch, Dad Jaime, F/M, Family Bonding, Fluff, Funerals, Gen, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Character Death, Mom Brienne, Tarth, Wholesome, soft jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-21 04:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: “I will stay as long as she wants me at her side,” Jaime said finally.“And your love for her would linger longer still,” Lord Selwyn responded, standing from the table. “My time in this world is coming to its close, I’m afraid. But I will be satisfied knowing that you will stand by Brienne as I pass it to her.”





	Name Me Your Sun and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! I promise to stop posting sad shit soon and start posting some just wholesome ass content. (But honestly Soft Jaime is my bread, butter, and jam right now)
> 
> Anywho, thanks for the great response on these stories so far! :D It means a lot that folks are reading
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

For years, Jaime had considered death to be a fairly dull affair. Painted rocks that didn’t come close to matching the eye color of the living, the terrible stench of death that was pathetically covered by flowers, mourners of every level of sincerity. A lot of fake, courtly talk that had always bored him greatly, all backed with little genuine emotion and a fair amount of money grubbing. It had never had the somber, overwhelming feeling that seemed to serve as the catalyst for every song about ill-fated romance or war.

But even now, looking at the crystal clear waters of Tarth, he did not feel somber. They stood in a line, the Lions of the Sapphire Isle, with Joanna next to Brienne wearing a crimson doublet to match his own, and Catelyn stood between them in a dark blue gown that matched the outfits of her mother and brothers who were just old enough to toddle around at their feet. Jaime had worried they would be loud at the ceremony, as they usually babbled loudly to each other throughout the day, but the pair of them were holding chubby hands, perhaps feeling the sanctity of the air around them as they did little more than watch the faces of the various guests.

The late Evenstar laid peacefully in a small boat, dressed simply in the sigil of his house, his face fixed into a ghost of the smile that Jaime had come to know and his thick blonde hair carefully combed. The maester stood near him, reciting a prayer of gods that Jaime no longer held any care for. Brienne held Catelyn’s hand, twin torches in their free hands.

That morning, Catelyn had confessed to him that she was nervous. At eight years old, she was already the image of a highborn lady, a near photocopy of him at her age except for the freckled skin of her cheeks when she stood too long by the waters of Tarth. “Father,” She had whispered, carefully where Brienne would not here, “I’m worried I won’t do it correctly. I want it to be perfect for grandfather.”

 

_The Lord of Tarth was easily a head taller than Jaime, and made an imposing figure even as it was clear he was well advanced in age, his blonde hair only retaining hints of its yellow color to match Brienne’s. But even when he had finally released his daughter from his embrace, cradling her face between his giant hands, and the shine in his blue eyes had faded as he looked to Jaime, Jaime had felt the acceptance pour from him. What had been imposing looks were actually clearly laugh lines cut deep at his eyes, and the gentleness of a father whose greatest wish had been fulfilled with Brienne’s return._

_“_ _Welcome, Ser Jaime,” He had said in a booming voice that had echoed around the hall they stood in, reaching out a hand to grip him on the arm, “It must be a rare man that has won my Brienne’s affections. It is an honor to host you here.”_

 

He had whispered her concerns to Brienne before they went out, and his Lady Wife now held their daughters’ hand tightly, ready to guide her in her role. It was tradition, Jaime had learned, for the funeral boat to be lit by those who would inherit Tarth. Brienne first, now officially the Evenstar even as they continued to refer to Lord Selwyn as such, and then to Catelyn who as the second oldest of their children would inherit the island as her sister became the head of Casterly Rock and her brothers found other paths the world had lain out for them.

 

_At less than two years old, the top of Joanna’s blonde curls barely reached her grandfather’s knee, a fact that did not stop her from attempting to climb onto the table where he was reading his letters in the Great Hall. “Joanna—” Brienne’s voice sounded behind him, tired from a sleepless night, but trying not to draw too much attention to them. Her father, however, had other plans._

_In an easy scoop, his granddaughter was in his lap, giggling at having been swooped through the air so suddenly. “Are you wanting to learn your letters, Little Lion?” He asked her, speaking to her as if she were any other adult. “It seems Lord Baratheon is inviting us to his wedding.” Jaime had perked his ears up, stopping his generous addition of the sweetened syrup into the porridge they were eating for dinner, his ears burning slightly as Brienne eyed the bottle. But whatever news Jaime may have wanted from Lord Selwyn had to wait as he was far too occupied with showing Joanna the wax seal that Gendry had sent them._

_“The sigil of House Baratheon is a prancing stag,” He said, and she reached a hand out to poke at the green wax. “Though it seems that Lord Gendry is inviting a wolf into his den.”_

_The rumors were true then. Arya Stark had returned, though Jaime could scarcely imagine her spending too long a time in the castle on Storm’s End when he knew that her heart lay well beyond it in the forests and streams and seas. But perhaps part of it lay there also, with the Blacksmith Lord making a name for himself as the Builder of Storm’s End after it fallen to waste with Renly and Stannis abandoning the seat for greater glory._

_“Deer.” Joanna said, looking up at her grandfather, “Deer.” She said emphatically and pointed again at the seal in front of them._

_“I do believe you’re absolutely right.”_

 

The prayer finished and Brienne gently tightened her grip on Catelyn’s hand, pulling her forward. They walked together slowly, and together lit the ends of the funeral shroud that covered his body on fire. Two knights on either side, his sworn swords, pushed the boat out to sea, black smoke rolling off of it in thick clouds.

Brienne was not crying. Jaime knew that she had done her crying that very first night, clinging to him after she had comforted the children through their grief. He had held her then, not knowing what words to offer her as he let tears of his own slip silently down his cheeks. Now, her face held steady, and as he watched, a closed-lip smile spread across her lips, though her eyes spoke of both loss and love. She crouched down, eye-level with their daughter, whispering what Jaime assumed were words of comfort.

 

_Jaime had been alone when he had carried Catelyn to meet her grandfather, her skin still red and her eyes still pale blue rather than the sharp green she had now. Brienne was exhausted after nearly two days of labor, and though Jaime himself would have loved scarcely anything more than to sleep after the adrenaline that accompanied his fear of losing her had dissipated, he knew that his goodfather would be in the same state. Surely, when he arrived at the Evenstar’s chambers, his knocks were answered quickly._

_“Brienne?” The fear in his face was evident, even as it was softened as Catelyn blinked towards him._

_“Sleeping,” Jaime had said, and then extended his arms. “Lady Catelyn Lannister,” He added, lying the babe in her grandfather’s arms._

_“Of Tarth,” He added, with a wink to Jaime. A gentle tease, perhaps, that his would be a legacy shared rather than centered on Casterly Rock as his own father had once dreamed. Jaime smiled back, knowing that his goodfather was well aware the amount of care he placed on continuation of the Lannister legacy, despite what seemed to be a very active role in ensuring its continuation._

_“Hello, little Cat,” He said softly, and Jaime watched as his daughter wrapped her hand, pulled loose from her swaddling blankets, around one of Lord Selwyn’s fingers. He carried her over to the window, “Do you hear the ocean, little one?”_

_Catelyn squirmed in his arms, and Jaime marveled that she had taken to him so easily. She reached towards the embroidered sun and stars on his chest,  gurgling softly. “The ocean will be yours one day. To command.” He said, somber as if saying something deathly serious, though he was smiling broadly down at her. “Though you will have to share with your sister.” He added, as though the newborn had suggested otherwise. Jaime, on almost zero sleep, couldn’t help himself from smiling at that, leaning against the doorway to alleviate the body aches and give them a moment longer at the window._

 

He felt a tugging on his knee, and looked down at his sons. Arthur was watching the flaming boat with his free fist in his mouth, still holding tight to his brother’s hand. But Selwyn was tugging on Jaime’s breeches. “Gan,” He said, and pointed his hand out to the water, “Gan.”

Jaime reached down and took him in his arms, holding him on his right side so that Arthur could then cling to his fingers. “Grandfather is gone, Selwyn.” The toddler scrunched up his nose, looking so like a displeased Brienne that Jaime nearly smiled.

“Gan,” His son insisted, eyes moving from his father to his namesake, now hundreds of feet out in the waves. He reached out a stubby hand. “Back.”

“It’ll be all right,” He said, “Look, Catelyn and your mother are coming back.”

But even the return of Brienne, who reached out to take Joanna’s hand in her own (though Jaime could see the self-control it took their oldest not to pull away in a bit of a huff), did not calm him. Jaime turned them away, to go back towards the castle with the rest of the party, but his face reddened and he started to cry in his father’s arms, “Gan!” he insisted.

 

_“After Brienne left to follow Renly, I did not expect the laughter of children to fill these halls again.” His goodfather was seated across from him, having poured them both mugs of ale and carried a candle over to the table. “Before that, truly.”_

_Jaime waited until he had taken a deep drink, thinking fondly of their growing – though he believed the twins to truly be the last – brood. Arthur and Selwyn were nearing three months old, the same age the first of the Baratheon-Stark child, though born with considerable less fanfare and well outside of Winterfell where Lady Stark had been when she had gone into labor. “There was a time I was certain I would not have children, my Lord.” He said truthfully._

_His goodfather eyed him almost warily for a moment as if debating to bring up Jaime’s past indiscretions, and Jaime was reminded forcefully of his age. Jaime himself was no longer a young man, whatever the war had not done to age him, raising four children had. But Lord Selwyn was reaching a considerable numbers of years beyond that, a long lifespan for any man, especially one who had seen his fair share of battles. But in the end, he said nothing, for which Jaime was grateful._

_“I realized that I never thanked you properly,” The Evenstar said, and though he was looking forward, his eyes were fixed on something else._

_“For what, my Lord?”_

_“For loving my daughter as you do.” He took another drink, “Genuinely.”_

_For a moment, Jaime thought he was joking, but then realized the deep seriousness of his words and took a swallow of his own drink._

_“The world has been a cold place to my Brienne.” Tears glittered in the candlelight reflecting off his strong face, reflecting the harshness of long buried memories. “But perhaps not so much anymore.”_

_“I will stay as long as she wants me at her side,” Jaime said finally._

_“And your love for her would linger longer still,” Lord Selwyn responded, standing from the table. “My time in this world is coming to its close, I’m afraid. But I will be satisfied knowing that you will stand by Brienne as I pass it to her.”_

_Not giving Jaime a chance to answer, he finished the rest of his drink in a long swallow and clasped him on the shoulder. Only a half hour later did Jaime stand himself, finally having worked out the charge his goodfather had left him, smiling to himself as he went to make sure his children were sleeping before he joined Brienne in their shared chamber._

 

“Joanna, will you take Arthur, please.” He asked, and Joanna obediently picked her brother from the ground, cradling him so that he could continue to play with the long stemmed reed that he had picked. “I will join you all at the castle in a moment.” Jaime said to Brienne, who nodded her understanding and herded the rest of their children towards what would be Lord Selwyn’s celebration of life. He did make sure that he smiled at Catelyn, letting her know that she had done a good job.

“Gan?” Selwyn asked, perking up as Jaime turned them back towards the shore.

Jaime paused at the shore, the boat merely a dot on the horizon and the smoke the only reminder that anything had happened here at all. “You know when you and Arthur were born, we were only expecting one of you,” Jaime said, and his son stopped crying, lulled by his father’s voice. “If it was a girl, we were considering a few names: Alysanne, Sansa, Abianne. If you were a boy, your mother considering naming you after Ser Podrick or Ser Barristan or even Uncle Tyrion.”

“Tea,” Selwyn said, giggling, his earlier unhappiness nearly forgotten.

Jaime smiled, “Yes, Uncle Tyrion.” He shifted Selwyn so that he was on his other side, pointing up towards the sky. “But when there were the both of you, nothing seemed to fit. You didn’t even have a name for a whole two days.”

Whether or not his son was understanding him was unclear to Jaime. He suspected not since the bright blue eyes looking back at him showed no evidence of such, but he had realized that the story he was telling was as much for himself. “On the third day, I was sitting beside her holding you as she fed Arthur and I realized that we were on Tarth, that our family crest was already the sun and moon and the stars.

Your brother was born first, named for Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Our own sun. And you were named for your grandfather, the Evenstar, a great knight and even better man.”

“Gan,” Selwyn agreed, but his earlier upsets were forgotten as he leaned his head down to Jaime’s shoulder, closing his eyes and closing his fist around a small bit of fabric at the collar of his doublet. Jaime said nothing else, placing him in his bassinet next to an already sleeping Arthur when he returned to the castle before making his way down to the celebration of a man who he would make certain had not wrongly placed his faith.


End file.
